


Trolling Butch

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Series: Jinx [6]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, Trolling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jinx horribly trolls Butch with 'advice' on surviving his first day out of the Vault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trolling Butch

**Author's Note:**

> One of the earliest Jinx fics and doesn't quite fit continuity and the way I settled into writing the characters. Still not deleting though. :)

Butch has to argue and rant, slamming his fist into the metal walls of the Vault and brandishing his switchblade to finally make Jinx take him seriously. Finally, she relents; perhaps memories of his physical prowess made her reconsider taking him along. Perhaps she just takes pity on him.

Either way, the Butch-man don't care.

It's been a long time since he's seen her, and then all the shit with the Overseer... but just like always, the hyper little egghead manages to sneak in and charm everyone into making up. Except Amata pitched her out right after, the bitch.

Still, it looks like the Wastes have been good to her, as far as it goes. Sure, she's tracking dirt and filth everywhere, and while she was slim before, she's positively wiry right now, but... her eyes are sharp, pale and knowing. She still manages to crack a smile, lighting up her face more than the old movie projector Mr Brotch uses for lessons. And her hair-- she might not look much like a dame anymore, but the girl looks good. Her hair's blood-red, cut short and styled in a shaggy, wild 'do that any barber can appreciate.

She's not alone, though; there's this hairy thing that came in with her, slobbering and tracking grit everywhere. It pissed in the Overseer's office, right up against the desk, which made Butch laugh. He wonders if Amata'll be able to clear the stink out, now that it's her office. Jinx says it's a dog, or at least she calls it Dogmeat, and Butch guesses she knows best, but he ain't ever seen one in the old picture-books.

There's also this huge green dude following her around. Looks like Grognak without the hair, and wearing what looks like some real messed up Vault suit. Is this what happens to the men who leave the Vault? Dames stay the same, just getting tougher and wilder, but the gents got mutated? He doesn't really talk, just grunting occasionally and following Jinx around. Did she have to tame him?

There's obviously a lot going on out there that Butch don't know is going on. Privately, he's glad she let him tag along, even if it's only out of pity.

Leaving the vault door, he sees the skeletons outside. The sign clenched in one's bony hands, saying ' _LET US IN, ASSHOLES_ '. Shit. He'd heard about the bombs through the history lessons, but never thought about the people left upstairs to die.

And when he steps past the gate, into the outside world, it nearly blinds him. He winces, letting out a yelp (a _manly_ yelp, mind you) and shields his eyes, curling inward instinctively.

"Yeah, it hit me that way too, the first time," Jinx says sympathetically. She's got on this red baseball cap, just like when she left the Vault, and is wearing the jacket he gave her so long ago. He doesn't know if she always dresses up like this, or if this was some sort of nostalgia for visiting home. Shame it's also her last visit. Her fingers drum impatiently against the rock wall.

"And I as well," the green man says slowly, words thick like the molasses that Old Lady Palmer used in her cookies. Butch nearly jumps out of his skin, voice rising in a decidedly un-macho squawk.

"Oh shit! That thing can talk!"

Jinx's jaw just sort of drops, like he gave a particularly stupid answer for Mr Brotch. Then she closes her mouth, just shaking her head. He can't see her eyes, but her head's turned to the green man.

"No, he can't," she says patiently. Under the cap, out of Butch's sight, she winks upwards at Fawkes.

"But I just heard him!"

"Well, sure, he said something. But it's like a recorder. Fawkes here is good enough in a fight, but can't say a word. Just repeats whatever he hears around him. Sometimes it just happens to come out at the right time to sound like he's having a conversation. Sort of like a parrot," Jinx drawls, turning back to grin at Butch. "I can see how it might confuse you though."

Butch gapes upward, now astounded. "So he can say something else, if I say it? Can he sing?"

"...sure, why not?" is Jinx's resigned response, but Butch is too excited to note the sarcasm.

"Hey, sing this one! ' _Say you don't need no diamond ring, and I'll be satisfied! Tell me that you want the kind of thing that money just can't buy!'"_  Butch starts belting out, snapping his fingers and starting a strange, hip-swiveling motion that Jinx is certain will cause his lower back to spasm in agony at any moment.

Fawkes' lips part in a wide smile, causing Butch to step back, wondering if the mutant's going to try eating him. Much to his surprise and delight, Fawkes starts with the next bit.

"' _I don't care too much for money, money cannot buy me love_ ,'" he croons in response, the green man snapping his fingers as well. His deep rumbling voice is a surprisingly good baritone... or maybe something lower than baritone? Butch doesn't know if such a thing exists, but whatever it is, it sounds good.

Jinx stares at the both of them, watching as they dance, swivel, and sing their way through the entirety of the Prewar song. Even Dogmeat stares, entranced, adding his howl to the impromptu musical number. Finally, when they all reach the end of the piece, Jinx claps her hands, looking as if she's about to start crying or laughing.

"That was beautiful, you two. I will remember this for the rest of my life," she sniffles, electing to do both as her face is split in a big grin below the tears.

Emboldened by his success, Butch spends the rest of the trek to Megaton saying random phrases, hoping the Super Mutant will respond. Sometimes Fawkes does, sometimes he doesn't. Butch doesn't know if it's because he got bored, or maybe he just isn't smart enough to figure out what to say.

Once at the town enclosed by the giant metal fence, Jinx starts leading the way up a ramp, claiming that for Butch's first day out, he deserves a drink. People look at her with respect, tipping their hats if they got 'em or just giving a friendly wave. One lady even runs up to Jinx, giving her a handful of bottle caps and thanking her for everything she's done. Butch wonders what Jinx's done to deserve a bunch of junk like that, but Jinx accepts the gift gratefully.

He also tries petting Dogmeat, thinking that the coarse fur looks like it ought to be soft and nice. The animal seems to enjoy it (at least he thinks that's what the wagging tail means), but then promptly turns on him and opens it mouth, slobbering its big fat tongue all over his hand. Butch shrieks in disgust, wiping it off on his pants.

"Hey Butch, what happened?" Jinx asks, turning to raise an eyebrow.

"The dog-thing just slimed me! What the hell?!"

Jinx abruptly turns pale, lunging for his wrist.

"Quick, spit on it! Wipe it off! Gotta get it all off!" she says frantically, shaking his wrist while being careful not to touch the wet parts.

"What the fuck?! What's wrong with me?" Butch asks, suddenly in a panic. He does as she tells him-- Jinx has been out here longer'n anyone else from the Vault, so she knows best, right?-- hocking a fat loogie on his hand, disgusting as it is, and starts rubbing the slimy spit mixture off.

"Don't you remember from biology? Dogs got acid in their saliva!" Jinx explains, giving him this _look_ as if he's a moron. Butch stares at her, wondering just how much he missed while trying to stare at the diagrams of naked ladies. "If you don't get it all off, it's going to start eating away at your flesh, and you'll be just bones!"

With a scream, Butch starts scrubbing frantically at his hands.

"Quick, in the saloon! I'll get a rag to wash it off!" Jinx hollers, shoving him into this dilapidated shack with 'Moriarty's' painted on the outside.

He has to blink once inside again, away from the harsh glare of the sun. There's a couple of cute dames, one blonde with a leather outfit that makes him think of old photos of gunslingers, and one curvy redhead with a lot of great cleavage on display. But it's really the thing behind the bar that has his attention now.

"Oh fuck! The dog already got him!" he screams, pointing at the mess of flesh.

"Jinx? What the fuck?" the thing asks in a voice like gravel. His exposed muscle and tendon move in a sickening display, and his decayed features will haunt Butch's nightmares for weeks.

"Sorry, Gob," Jinx apologizes. Again, under her hat and with her face turned away, Butch cannot see her wink. "It's his first day out of the Vault, and he has never met anyone whose face has been licked off by a dog before. You have to forgive him the shock."

"Indeed," Fawkes rumbles.

"Oh, this? Yeah. Them dogs are vicious killers," Gob growls, playing along. Dogmeat, ever anxious to do his part, bounds behind the bar to start licking at Gob's hands. The ghoul bartender crouches, allowing him to lick his face. "Real rough. But I'm immune now, so it's okay."

"How do you keep that thing from licking your face off?" Butch asks, wide-eyed and hyperventilating. He examines his hand intensely, worried that any even faintly red spot could be a sign of his flesh melting away.

"Well, there's this old-fashioned cocktail they make. They say if you drink it, you're completely immune to dog spit," Gob says, straight-faced. Of course, with most of his face missing, this isn't too difficult.

"Give it to me, man! I might be dying here!" Butch begs.

"Sure. This on your tab, Wanderer?" Gob asks, already assembling a line of bottles.

"Of course. Anything for my old friend Butchie."

Gob starts expertly mixing drinks, occasionally eyeballing it and swirling the medication. Butch recognizes vodka, whiskey, a splash of red sauce that smells like peppers, a cracked egg, and a couple of other things that he isn't quite sure about. Finally, with a flourish, Gob drops a magnet in the murky concoction.

"Drink up, but leave the magnet in. Them electrons gotta work their way through your system," he advises, voice like a rake going over a concrete slab.

Butch immediately starts chugging, nearly choking back on the foul mess. At least the burn of the alcohol somewhat numbs his tastebuds, letting him swallow the sludge without puking.

"Congratulations, Butch! Dogmeat's slobber won't kill you now!" Jinx crows, slapping him on the back like he just done a wonderful thing. Well.... maybe he did. He survived his first encounter with the wildlife, right? Butch nods, allowing himself a small smile of victory. Tunnel Snakes rule!

"Whew. Not all Vaulties are like our little miss One-oh-one, are they now?" the sexy redhead asks, in a voice like smoke and whiskey. It makes Butch's head spin, just listening to her talk. Or maybe it's the miracle cure.

"Nope. Butch has always been much more of a badass than me," Jinx replies, giving Butch another reassuring pat on the back. "Plus I had to fumble around and learn everything on my own. But my good pal Butch here has got _me_ to show him the ropes!"

"I see," is the dry response.

Butch don't care if the dame is just looking at him funny. The blonde is hiding her face behind her hand, shoulders quaking silently. Probably overwhelmed by his studliness. Plus, his leather jacket is pretty sweet. He hasn't seen anyone out here yet with gear as cool as his.

"Look, Butch, let's get back to my house. I've got some food and we can get you a Nuka to wash the cure out of your mouth," Jinx offers, now that he is no longer in imminent danger of dying.

Truth be told, Butch is glad to see her taking the lead. This outside world is scary.

At least the sun is going down, and Butch doesn't feel like his skin's about to fry off with the heat. Walking back to her house-- which is still a shack, really, but it's pretty swell by Megaton standards. Roomy inside too, though Butch's eyes nearly bug out of his face when he see the ginormous heart-shaped mattress right on the floor inside. And there's a hovering robot, looking way more animated than Andy normally does.

"Good evening, madame! May I suggest--"

"You got your own robot?!" Butch hollers. Andy is cool and all, but he really belongs to the Vault as a whole for whatever gotta get done. And Jinx here has got one all to herself? It beggars the imagination.

"Why yes, yes. I am just the robot..." the thing mutters to itself.

"Wadsworth, I'm sorry. He was just astounded by your magnificence," Jinx says breezily, patting it on one of its eye-stalks like it's just another pet. "He is a fantastic butler."

"What did you do to rank getting your own robot?" Butch asks, just as wide-eyed as before.

"...well, there was this giant bomb in the middle of the town..."

"Shit, you think I'm stupid? If you're going to tell me a whopper, at least make it better-sounding!" Butch guffaws. Behind him, Fawkes simply shrugs, rolling his eyes.

Jinx's eyes just narrow slightly, then she chuckles.

"Should have known better than to pull one over on you, Butchie. Fine, here's the _real_ story. There are these machine-slavers who steal old tech and update it for their own nefarious purposes. They even got these crazy chips that if they plant 'em on you, then blammo!" she mimes, bursting her fingers out from closed fists with animated waggles. "Your free will's sucked away! But I've always been good with tech, as you know, so when I found a bunch of the slaved machine-people, I was able to reroute their circuits and set 'em free. In gratitude, they gave me Wadsworth here."

"Wow," Butch breathes, staring at Jinx with new respect. "Any of them slavers still around?"

"Unfortunately, yes. But we all do our parts. If you really want a story, ask Doc Church about his history with the slavers. He's got, uh, stories to tell."

Behind him, Butch hears Fawkes make a choking sound, but when he turns, the Super Mutant is just clearing his throat.

"So why you got this big old bed?" Butch asks, kicking the heart-shaped mattress with suspicion. The red satin covers just make everything look even more lurid.

"Orgies, Butch." He misses the sarcasm in her tone, too caught up in horrible mental images.

"No shit? Little miss goody-two-shoes?" he squeaks, voice cracking on the last syllable.

"Oh, no! Not for me! For... uh, Fawkes!" she hastens to assure him. "He's got... uh... a dick like a fire hose! Real popular! I rent him out by the hour!"

"Indeed she does," comes the morose bass rumble behind him. Butch turns again, eyeballs bouncing between Jinx (a pimp?!) and the huge green man that he is suddenly terrified of turning his back towards.

"Who the hell pays for him?! He's a fucking monster!"

Jinx pauses, glaring at him. She looks mad, and he briefly panics, wondering if he overstepped his boundaries by insulting her property. She opens her mouth, then closes it. Opens it again, then purses her lips, eyes narrowing.

"He's a fucking good man. Look at the merchandise," she finally says, striding across the room to slap Fawkes' ass. The mutant makes a guttural grunt, but doesn't respond. Maybe he's used to being handled like that? "Built like Grognak, abs you could bounce a cap off of," she elaborates, running her hands over the chiseled lines of his belly. Fawkes keeps staring ahead, though his cheeks are starting to turn purple. Blushing?  Can monsters blush? "Plus, the sweetest... mouth... you can find anywhere in the Wasteland. Can do push-ups with his tongue. Oh yeah, you can bet I rent him out by the hour," Jinx finishes blithely.

"Well, uh, shit. Where do you sleep then?" Butch stammers.

"Upstairs in my room. I'm not part of the show, Butch."

"...well, shit. Can I sleep with you tonight then? Just in case...?"

"Sure. Fawkes has no clients tonight anyway, and he sleeps down here. Only bed big enough for him," Jinx mutters.

Butch frantically hugs Jinx's shadow, so afraid of being alone with the sex-monster. He completely misses when Jinx mouths an apology at Fawkes, or the Super Mutant's silent laughter once Butch's back is turned. Dogmeat bounds up the stairs after Butch, providing a welcome buffer.

Once Jinx is in her room, she rolls out a sleeping bag. Butch balks.

"Hey, hey! I thought I was sleeping with you!" he protests.

"You are sleeping in my room. I get the bed, you get the floor," she points out.

"But... but..." he stutters, unable to voice his true fears. Finally, he drops his voice to a horrified whisper. "I'm scared of sleeping alone out here, Jinx. It's been a fucking nightmare, baby! Please, let me sleep with you!"

"Dogmeat sleeps with me too. Bed isn't big enough for all three of us," Jinx snaps, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

"But... I'm fucking outta my mind here, Jinx! I'm fucking terrified!" he gasps, choking on the words. "This whole fucking world is full of crazy shit!"

She tilts her head to the side, tapping her foot as if thinking something. Then she shrugs, peeling off her-- his-- whatever. The jacket he gave her, which he still thinks of as 'his' jacket on some level, even though he made himself a new one.

"Fine. But I sleep in my skivvies, and you have to keep your hands to yourself. I'm letting you sleep with me, just for tonight," she says firmly. She is peeling off her boots and the Vault suit now. Butch stares at her, wondering just how casually she is used to disrobing in front of strangers. Or maybe she's just used to changing clothes a lot.

"Quit gawping. I'm getting ready for bed, and you better get ready too," Jinx says, taking a swig of water from a bottle and rinsing her mouth.

At least she still has practically no tits. She does have those soft little pillows, but they're like, goose-bump size. Easy to ignore.

Or so he thinks, until he's lying next to her. She's all dirty and grimy and smells like sweat, but also like spice and dust, like she's been wandering all sorts of roads beyond the Vault...

Those little bumps aren't so little. They're enough to remind him that she's still a woman, even with that crazy hair and all the swagger he remembers.

He's starting to pitch a tent. Both embarrassed and vaguely hopeful that she'll notice and do something nice about it, Butch reaches down to adjust himself. Feeling the sheets tug against her, she rolls over to give him the hairy eyeball. He flushes.

"Butch? That for me?" she asks, so dry he can practically feel the moisture being sucked out of the air.

"...well, yeah. If you wanna..." he mutters, hoping maybe if he bullshits his way through this, he can at least get a blowjob out of the horrible day.

"Oh, that's so sweet. But Butch, I... I guess I should've told you my problem..."

"What? What's the matter?"

She pauses, chewing on her lower lip.

"We~ell... I drank too much radiated water, and... I got a vagina dentata," she says slowly, lips quirking upward in an apologetic smile.

"A whatsit now?" he asks, confused.

"Vagina. Dentata," she enunciates carefully. "I have teeth down there now. Any dick that comes in, and... snap!" She claps her hands together for emphasis, fingers parted like claws, like fangs...

At the vivid illustration, Butch screams like a little girl, bolting out of bed and running into the next room. There's no bed, but he don't care; he lies against the door, wide awake and sweating the entire night.

* * *

 

The next morning, Butch is cranky, sore, and exhausted. Only one day out of the Vault, and all this crazy shit thrown at him? How the hell did Jinx survive?

Over a breakfast of roast squirrel and crunchy mutfruits, Jinx keeps looking at him. And Fawkes keeps looking at him. Butch keeps glancing up from his food to see him staring at them, as if wondering what might happen next.

Shouldn't this be what _he's_ doing to them?

"...Butch, you realize we were completely bullshitting you yesterday, right?" Jinx finally says, after staring at him for far too long.

"Whatcha mean?" he asks, hackles instantly raised.

"...uh, Fawkes. He can talk, really."

"Yes, I can. There are others of my kind who are less intellectual, but I have my faculties," the giant booms.

"...and he's not a sex slave. Also, dog-spit won't eat your skin away."

Butch's eyes are about ready to pop out, and he nearly spits out his mutfruit.

"But... but what about your..." he asks weakly, pointing to her crotch.

Jinx gives a devilish smile, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. Her warm breath tickles the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Would you like to find out?"

Butch's scream echoes through Megaton.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware the Beatles is not during the 50s-ish era of Fallout, but I liked the song. Plus, the idea of Butch and Fawkes dancing made me giggle madly.


End file.
